The Later Years
by Zae Conwell
Summary: Harry's out of school, is and auror, and is working for the Order. (WILL contain OoTP spoilers...don't read if you haven't read or finished OoTP) A new evil is arising. Could it be Voldemort's most loyal servant? (ok, so i haven't really gotten that far)
1. Deep Blue Funk

The Later Years  
  
Note: I am not J.K. Rowling, and I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters (though I wish I did;) ) Also, this is my first fic, so if you read it and it sucks, tell me, but nicely.  
  
Chapter One  
  
It was raining. Again. 21-year-old Harry Potter shook his wet black hair out of his eyes as he entered the Three Broomsticks. He cast his gaze about the noisy pub as if he were looking for some one. In fact, he was looking for someone, but they were not here. He sighed and sank down on a barstool. Of all the times he desperately needed to see Lupin, he was not there to meet him. Out of all of Harry's years of working for the Order of the Phoenix, Lupin had never once been late for a meeting. Harry was drowsy. He stared absentmindedly at the crowds of chatting Hogwarts' students enjoying butterbeers on their Hogsmeade weekend. Harry remembered how he had sneaked into Hogsmeade in his third year and secretly had a butterbeer with Ron and Hermione. How he missed them! As soon as he had left Hogwarts, Harry had begun auror training, leaving his best friends behind completely. He had had no regrets at the time, still being in shock from his battle with Voldemort. He still could not believe he had killed a man, if Voldemort could have been considered a man at all. But the prophecy had to be fulfilled, and Harry had no desire to be dead, even if it had meant seeing Sirius again. As he thought about his late Godfather, Harry pulled an old, tarnished silver mirror from the inside of his moleskin overcoat. He rubbed his thumb over its surface. This had been Sirius' last gift to him before he.before that dog Beatrix Lestrange had killed him. It was a two-way mirror that Sirius and Harry's father James had used when they were at school and in different detentions. Harry had given Ron the second mirror as a parting gift from Hogwarts, but he supposed Ron had broken or lost it. He considered saying his friend's name into the mirror, as he had done in a desperate attempt to contact Sirius, but just then a witch with a wrinkled face and long red fingernails asked him  
"Fancy a cuppa, Mr. Potter?" She held a chipped porcelain teapot in one hand and a mug in the other.  
"No, Rosemerta, I'll have a--a butterbeer, thanks." Madam Rosemerta nodded and took the strong hot tea back behind the bar. She pulled out a bottle, opened it, and set it down in front of Harry. He took a swig of the amber-colored liquid and felt almost instantly better. At the same moment, Lupin walked in.  
"Harry!" he called. "Sorry I'm late. Got held up over at the ministry. Arthur wanted me to look at something for him." Harry nodded.  
"'S ok, Remus." He said. It still felt odd to call Lupin by his first name when for so long he had called him "Professor Lupin" though he had taught Harry defense against the dark arts for only one year. "So, what was it the Arthur held you up with?" Harry asked, referring to the Minister of Magic himself, Arthur Weasly, and the comment Remus had previously made.  
"Oh, nothing terribly important, really. Some Death Eaters causing trouble over in Liverpool." Remus replied. Harry nodded. "So, what was it that you so urgently needed to see me about?" the aging werewolf asked Harry.  
"Well, I haven't heard from Hagrid in about two months. He said he would owl me as soon as he got back from seeing Grawp, but so far, I haven't heard from him. Have you any idea where he is?" Harry gnawed his lip nervously. He knew how badly Grawp could beat up his half brother, and he was afraid for Hagrid.  
"As far as I know, he's still with the giants. They were all confused after You-Know-Who-I mean, after your battle and all-" his sentence died on his lips as Harry nodded once more. There was a distracted look in the auror's eyes. He looked worried, and tired. "Listen, Harry," said Remus. "Why don't you go over to Diagon Alley and see Fred and George. I hear the shop is doing splendid."  
"Yeah, I think I will." Harry said, still looking troubled. He laid a coin down for his butterbeer, gulped down the last swallow, and strode out of the pub. Then, with a crack, he was gone. 


	2. The Weasleys Return

Chapter 2-The Weasleys Return  
  
A/N: I do not own any Harry Potter characters or anything related to Harry Potter. They belong to Ms. J.K. Rowling.  
  
Harry instantly reappeared at the top of Diagon Alley. The street bustled with witches and wizards going about their business, making purchases, and generally enjoying themselves. Harry sighed inwardly and looked up at the towering marble dome that was Gringott's Wizard Bank. Figuring he might make some purchases this afternoon, he strolled into the building out of the rain. Harry looked upon the second set of doors into the building. He re-read the inscription upon the silver that he had read so many years ago with Hagrid before he had started his first term at Hogwarts. They read:  
  
Enter stranger, but take heed  
  
Of what awaits the sin of greed,  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there.  
  
Harry chuckled. Hagrid had sworn that there were dragons guarding the top- secret Gringott's vaults. Harry wondered now, if there were. The first time he had come to Gringott's, he had hardly believed there were such things as dragons. But after watching one hatch from its egg and then fighting one on a broomstick (Harry had been on the broomstick, not the dragon), he firmly believed that there might very well be dragons lurking beneath his feet. Harry snapped out of his reverie. He fished around in one of his coat's many pockets for the key to his vault. He pulled an old sneakoscope out of the pocket where he could feel the key. He chuckled for the fist time in many months. Ron had given this to him. He approached a teller's desk.  
"I'd like to make withdrawal from my vault," he informed the goblin behind the desk. The goblin nodded curtly and gestured to a second goblin.  
  
"Fiobod, take Mr. Potter to his vault, please," the teller-goblin ordered. Fiobod nodded also and gestured for Harry to follow him. They got into a rickety cart that would send them hurtling underground to his vault. Upon reaching the desired destination, Harry, looking slightly green around the gills, and Fiobod, stepped from the cart. Fiobod unlocked the vault and Harry stepped inside. The pile of gold, silver, and bronze was no smaller than the first time Harry had entered it. If anything, it had grown larger. Being an auror did not pay cheaply. He scooped money into his bag until it was reasonably full. They sped back up the twisting tunnels of Gringotts. Harry strolled down Diagon Alley, jingling the gold in his pocket distractedly. Outwardly, his green eyes were troubled, and he wore a sullen expression on his visage. Inwardly, thoughts tumbled through his mind endlessly, most of them dark and cynical. Harry was rarely happy of late. He found it almost impossible to work his way out of this blue funk. Not even cheering charms helped. He had recently helped to capture ten or so surviving death eaters, but that had not even pleased him. Mostly what troubled him was the fact that Sirius' murderer still walked free. Harry still stuck by the vow he had made what seemed like so long ago down in the Room of Death in the Department of Mysteries in his fifth year.  
"She killed Sirius! I'll kill her!" he had screamed in a fit of rage and confusion, chasing Bellatrix Lestrange into the Atrium and dueling with her until Voldemort himself had arrived on the scene. The memories of that night and the night he had killed Voldemort were still clear in his mind.  
Harry walked along, lost in thought, and very nearly walked past Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Fred and George Weasley's joke shop. He stopped and turned suddenly and entered the brightly colored shop, curious to see what new inventions the twins had come up with since he had last visited them. As he entered the shop, a parrot squawked loudly. A tall man with bright red hair looked up from reading The Daily Prophet and grinned.  
"Harry! Great to see you, mate!"  
"Hey Fred," Harry replied. A second red head, identical to the first, stepped out of a back room.  
"He's not Fred, I am! Honestly, Harry, how long have you known us?" he said.  
"Oh, right. Sorry George."  
"Only kidding, he is Fred, mate!" George said warmly. Harry shook his head; his mind still clouded with unpleasant memories of graveyards and dark nights.  
"You look awfully low, Harry." Fred said; concern was rising in his voice. "Sickle for your thoughts?" Harry shook his head.  
"No, I'm fine. So, I hear business is doing well," He added, eager to change the subject.  
"Oh yeah!" George replied enthusiastically. "Positively booming! I'm afraid we've not got much new stuff invented since we've last seen you though."  
Harry and the twins chatted for about 20 minutes, and then the shop started to fill up with customers. He said goodbye to Fred and George and left, feeling slightly better. Seeing two of the nine Weasley's gave Harry a longing to see if Ron would answer when he called his name in the two-way mirror. He sank down on a bench by the sidewalk and pulled the mirror out once again.  
"Ron?" he said into it, wondering if it would even work. "Ron Weasley!" He repeated in a commanding tone. Much to his amazement, the glass became foggy, and then a long-nosed, freckled face appeared there! Harry gave a bark of laughter. "RON!" he said, his spirits soaring. His old mate's eyes grew large.  
"Harry! Blimey! You scared me to death! Here I am, minding my own business at work, and I hear my name coming out of a mirror!" Harry grinned. How good it was to hear Ron's voice!  
"I wasn't sure it would even work!" he admitted.  
"Well, it did, and it scared the snot out of me! Where are you, mate?"  
"Diagon Alley," Harry said.  
"Right," Ron replied. A moment later and there was a sharp cracking sound. Another tall, gangly man with flaming red hair appeared next to Harry.  
"Oy!" Harry cried in shock and amazement. Ron was grinning from ear to ear. He wrapped Harry in a classic rib-crushing Weasley hug. "Oy, Ron, you're about to crush my mirror!" Harry managed to get out, before Ron released him.  
"Crikey it's good to see you!" Ron said. Though he and Harry both worked at the Ministry, they rarely saw each other. Harry was an auror, Ron the Assistant to the Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports.  
"So, what have you been up to, Harry?" Ron asked.  
"Oh, you know, rounding up deatheaters, chasing down Vol-" Ron winced.  
"Harry, do you have to say his name?" Though Voldemort was dead, his name still struck fear into the hearts of many witches and wizards.  
"Chasing down Voldemort impersonators (Mad Eye's especially keen on them)" Harry continued, ignoring Ron's comment. "Helping your dad convince people that Sirius wasn't a murderer, you know, typical auror type stuff." He finished and looked at Ron. "What about you, Ron, how's old Bagman doing? Has he paid off those goblins yet?" Ron rolled his eyes.  
"Almost, the old fool. I thought he never would. I badgered him about it every day for about six months before he finally gave in." Ron chuckled and shook his head. Harry smiled.  
"Hey, look. Quality Quiddich Supplies. Shall we pop in and have a bit of a look round?" he proposed to Ron, who shrugged and nodded.  
They entered the shop. It was covered from floor to ceiling with posters of grinning Quiddich players from teams around the world. Probably the most prominent, however, were the seeker for the Bulgarian team, and the Chudley Cannon's keeper. Bulgaria's seeker was Viktor Krum, and keeper for the Cannons was none other than Oliver Wood. Harry grinned at Wood's face staring down at him from a dozen different angles and waving madly.  
"What a tyrant!" he said, recalling early morning practices, pep-talks, and wiggling diagrams, all thanks to Wood, the former Gryffindor Quiddich captain. After Wood graduated Hogwarts, Angelina Johnson had been captain. That year, Harry was given a lifetime ban on Quiddich for punching Malfoy in the face, the game's snitch still clutched in his hand, and initiating a fight between Harry, Fred, & George, and Malfoy. Of course, after Dolores Umbridge had been fired, Dumbledore lifted the ban and Harry was Quiddich captain his remaining years at Hogwarts.  
Harry and Ron gazed at racing brooms for an hour. Ron marveled at the beautiful woods, the choice tail straws, the fine aerodynamics, and a million other aspects of the brooms that Harry and Ron understood, but almost no one else around them did. The Firebolt was still an incredibly popular broom, and still used by Professional Quiddich teams. Newer models, however, had come out since then. Harry longed to fly again. It had been so long since he'' been able to. He turned to Ron, who was engrossed in an updated version of Quiddich Through the Ages.  
"Ron, what do you say we go up to the Leaky Cauldron so I can grab my things and then pop over to the Burrow and do a bit of flying?" he asked. Ron closed his book and shelved it.  
"Sounds like a plan to me!" Ron said.  
"Great," Harry replied. "Be back in a flash!" he added, and was gone with another loud crack.  
  
Hahahaha a cliffhanger. Sort of. Wow, that was really long!! I keep ending with people apparating/ disapparating!! Geez, what is wrong with me??? Well, if you review, then you will find out the result of Harry's disapparating from Quality Quiddich Supplies. Lol. Please review!!!! ~~Tonks~~ 


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